


SN-OPS 1st Division; SuperNatural Operations.

by ambientbliss



Series: Military [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Military, Anchors, Anxiety, Concern, Concerned Derek, Future Sexual Content, Injury, M/M, Mates, Military terms, Nightmares, Scott is a jackass, The Sheriff won't stick to the diet, Violence, soldier Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 19:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11698440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambientbliss/pseuds/ambientbliss
Summary: Stiles had regrets. His biggest ones he could count on one hand. Right now his decision to join the Army was one of the biggest. 3 years and 4 months ago, Stiles was recruited on his was to the FBI academy, for a special task force. Then instead of joining the ranks in the Army, he was sent to Staff Sargent Elms, Squad Leader for SN-OPS 1st Division.Beacon Hills had prepared him for the realization that the things that go bump in the night are very real, but what it couldn't have prepared him for was how much blood he would have on his hands.Can Stiles repair a broken friendship? Is Derek going to ever come back?





	SN-OPS 1st Division; SuperNatural Operations.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf  
> UnBeta'd.

Stiles had regrets. His biggest ones he could count on one hand. Right now his decision to join the Army was one of the biggest. 3 years and 4 months ago, Stiles was recruited on his was to the FBI academy, for a special task force. Then instead of joining the ranks in the Army, he was sent to Staff Sargent Elms, Squad Leader for SN-OPS 1st Division. The briefing basically explained that he was now a member of a Supernatural Special operations team. 

Beacon Hills had prepared him for the realization that the things that go bump in the night are very real, but what it couldn't have prepared him for was how much blood he would have on his hands. Stiles spent 3 years taking down supernaturals and their handlers. It was a whole different beast when you added in terrorism. He had been promoted to Strategic Weapons Specialist halfway through his contract. He did have Beacon Hills to thank for that. 

Stiles had 8 months left when they headed out for this mission. Locate and eliminate a Chimera. The intel was wrong. God they were so wrong. It was like the dread doctors all over again. Chimera's ambushed the squad as soon as they hit the center of town. They were vulnerable. While Stiles was skilled with a gun, and a damn good shot he wasn't good enough. Not this time. The entry team was taken down within minutes of reaching the square. There were a lot of things that should have been done differently, but it was too later for that.

Somehow Stiles survived the attack. Wounded, he searched for shelter and found it in a bombed out shell of a house. Although there wasn't any shortage of those in this hell hole. Once Stiles was sure that he was secure for the time being, he reluctantly looked down at his vest. The Kevlar was shredded, and his blood was staining his ACU's. They said that the kevlar would withstand sharp claws. God they were wrong. Stiles didn't want to see the extent of the damage, but he had to keep applying pressure. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. Stiles had 5 bullets left in his clip. Something that made Stiles a perfect SWS was is ability to count and keep track of his ammunition. It happened without even thinking. So he knew that he had a chance, if there was only one Chimera. It had to be Chimera's. Stiles had a bad feeling the moment he read over the brief. One of those big regrets was Donovan. Panic set in, he was the only one left of the entry team, and he wasn't in any shape to extract himself. 

"Specialist?! Does anyone copy?!" The voice cracked through his ear piece. 

Lifting his right hand to his face. Stiles spoke into the com. 

"SWS Stilinski. I copy."

"STILINSKI! What the fuck happened?"

"Intel is wrong!! I'm... I'm the only one left. I need an extraction. I'm wounded, unsure of the severity." 

Stiles waited. Each bead of sweat dropping down his temple made him even more nervous. There was too much time between contacts.

"Does anyone copy?!" Still nothing. _Fuck_.

Hours went by. Stiles refused to look at his watch, but he could tell because the sun was gone. He was going to die here.

+++

_"You're doing what?!"_

_"I joined the Army Scott.... I thought you would be proud of me."_

_"Stiles... you are just going to kill people."_

_"I... no I'm not just going to kill people Scott. That's murder. I am not a murderer... you know that."_

_"Tell that to Donovan."_

_"Scott, you know that was self defense. I am doing this to protect people, it... I can't say everything but it is a special task force. We focus on supernatural threats."_

_"Oh that's great. So you hunt down people like me and kill them. Great."_

_"Scott!"_

_Scott turned and left. The look on his face was worse than when he thought Stiles murdered Donovan in cold blood. Stiles's heart was in his throat. His brother just turned on him._

Stiles blinked away the memory. He hadn't been back to Beacon Hills since his leave from boot camp. He hadn't spoken to Scott since that day, and he hadn't spoken to the rest of the pack in years. It was radio silence. The one person he thought would understand has been MIA since their last stint in Mexico. Idly Stiles wondered who was left. If anyone moved on or... died. Hell, _he_ was going to die here. The last things spoken to his best friend, his brother were full of hurt and hate, a promise to come home to his father. In his mind he was ticking through the pack. 

Lydia was the last one he spoke to about 2 years ago. She was going to MIT, and she said she missed him. They had tried dating the last semester of school, but it didn't work out. Stiles's mind was elsewhere, and Lydia was in theory everything he wanted, but not. They would always be friends. She promised to talk to Scott, but Stiles didn't want to discuss it any further. Malia, Mason, Liam, and Hayden were all a blur of goodbyes before leaving. He thought that at least Malia would have more of a sincere goodbye, but that never happened. 

The last person to pop into his head was Derek. Their goodbye was way to early, and jesus Stiles regrets it. He thought the wolf was going to die right there propped up on a rock outside of a run down church in the Mexican desert. He sputtered a laugh, realizing how similar the circumstances were. The only difference was that Derek walked away, living and breathing. Stiles wasn't going to get that chance. Not now. 

Stiles tilted his head back, thumping his head against the brick wall. His eyes were closed and god he was hoping this would be quick. 

_thwump, thwump, thwump._

His eyes shot open. That wasn't the sound he was expecting. That... that was a helo. Stiles braced himself for anything, but he couldn't help but let his body sag for a moment when he watched as Ally and Tony stormed into the building under the spotlight. 

"Tony! Here!" Ally's voice pierced through the silence.

Stiles tried to stand while Tony was making his way over. He winced. It didn't appear to be too critical but once he was vertical everything was swimming.

"Hey! Stilinski! Stay with me yeah?" Tony's voice was right in his ear. "You copy Stilinski?"

"Copy Tony." 

His battle buddy helped him walk out to the chopper. Ally was covering the rear, and Elms was waiting in the chopper door. Stiles was hoisted into the door, and placed on the make shift gurney. 

"Load it up!" Elms's voice boomed, and Stiles could feel the movement of the chopper as the remainder of his team loaded up. 

The last thing Stiles remembers was Ally's voice as she tried pulling his kevlar. _Sarg... this isn't supposed to happen."_

72 hours later Stiles was all stitched up and flying home. For good. Elms filed for an early release and it was granted due to the situation. Landing back in LA was different. Most of his recent transports were to desolate countries and sketchy places from a military transport. While Stiles knew this wasn't a mission, he was still alert looking for any threat that may present itself.

Stiles thanked all things holy that it was only an hour drive from LA to Beacon Hills, and his driver seemed to be willing to speed a little to get him there. Stiles thought it had something to do with the uniform. Unfortunately he didn't have any civilian clothes to put on before flying home, so this was it. When the taxi pulled up to the Sheriff's station, Stiles was sure to tip him well, and thank him before walking through the door.

There was a new receptionist, one Stiles didn't recognize sitting at the desk. He greeted Stiles with a bright smile, which turned to slight concern when he took in the clothing.

"May I help you?"

"Yeah, I need to see Sheriff Stilinski." 

"He isn't in right now... he will be back in about an hour or so."

"I'll wait in his office." 

"Sir... I..."

"It is regarding his son." 

Without another protest, the deputy let Stiles through and lead him to the Sheriff's office. He hated to play that card, and he kept his head down so others wouldn't see him. He knew that the Sheriff would probably panic, but honestly Stiles knew there was still a couch in that office and he wanted to sleep. As soon as the Deputy left, and Stiles closed the door, he sat down on the couch, which turned into laying on the couch. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

++++

"I don't care Parrish." Noah was getting irritated with Parrish. The one person who was trying to keep him on his diet that Stiles had prescribed. 

"Sheriff... I am not going to be the one to tell Stiles you went off the diet..." 

As Noah climbed out of the cruiser, his cell phone rang. Seeing the name on the caller ID he flipped it open.

"Stilinski." 

"Hi Sheriff. We found the issue. It might take a couple days and a good plan but it won't be tricking anymore teenagers."

"Sounds good Son." 

The pair walked into the station, and Noah continued to listen to his phone conversation. Until he reached the reception desk.

"Sheriff?"

"Hold on." Noah pulled the receiver away from his face. "Yeah Johnson?"

"There... there is someone here to see you. They said they would wait in your office. Something about your son."

Noah stilled for a moment. The voice on the other end of the phone went silent. Parrish stood stock still, looking from Johnson to the Sheriff. 

"Don't you dare hang up. I don't know if I am going to need you here or not." Noah spoke into the phone as he walked toward his office. 

The door was closed with the blinds drawn, Parrish stood behind the Sheriff until he was waved off. 

"Figure out what needs to be done on your end. See what Scott is thinking. Depending on how this little meeting goes. I may join you in planning."

"Okay. When was the last time you heard from Stiles?" 

"About 9 months ago." 

With bated breath, Noah turned the knob on his office door and gently pushed it open. He expected two men to be waiting in dressed blues, instead what he found made him release the heaviest sigh he has ever experience.

"Derek. I will call you back. Everything is okay." 

"Yes Sir."

Noah ended the call and walked into his office, shutting the door behind him. Seeing Stiles asleep on his office couch was like a flashback. It had happened too many times to keep track of. He stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of his son. His hair was sticking up every which way like it was in high school, his skin was tanned but he looked worn out. A look the Sheriff had seen in Stiles before. 

As gently as he could, Noah gripped Stiles's shoulder. "Son. Wake up."

Stiles woke with a start. Sucking in a sharp breath and jolting upward. Only remembering his stitches when he was upright and trying to breath through the burst of pain. He remembered where he was, and recognized the voice of his father but that didn't help the nightmares that he has become accustomed to.

"Dad." 

He stood, ignoring the pain that ignited from such a movement and hugged his father like his life depended on it.

"How long are you home for?" 

"For good. Discharged. Last mission was a cluster and Sarg got me out for medical. I'm okay though." 

It was a lie, but to the best of his knowledge his father wasn't a walking lie detector so he would get away with it for now. The Sheriff knew what he was able to know while Stiles was enlisted, mostly the nature of the targets. 

"It's good to have you home."

"Yeah. Sorry about how I got into the office... I was super tired and didn't recognize the Deputy. I didn't want to cause too much excitement either. I figured I could sleep on the couch for a while."

Noah just smiled at Stiles, and god Stiles never realized how fucking much he missed that. How much he missed his dad. Being back was going to be hard, especially with Scott. Of course Stiles was putting off that thought until he actually had to deal with it. The Army may have changed somethings about him, but not the fact that he liked to ignore things until they went away. 

"Let me take you home. I'm sure you will have some clothes to change into, they might be tighter than they were before, but until later you should be able to manage. That way you can get some rest."

Stiles nodded, and grabbed his duffle. When he exited the office he wasn't expecting Parrish to be pacing the length of the squad room. He turned his attention to the office when he heard the door open.

"Stiles?!"

"Hey Parrish." The smirk felt somewhat foreign to Stiles. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time.

"Glad you're back." 

The deputy rolled his eyes, having quickly put together Stiles's little plan of getting into the office. At least it appeared that Scott hadn't turned everyone in Beacon Hills against him. On the ride to the house Stiles felt the familiar itch to interrogate his own father, but not about a case this time.

"So... out with it."

"How is the pack?"

"Well." Noah laughed. "Lydia is at MIT, excelling as usual. Malia is going to community college here, Mason and Liam are still here. I don't try to keep up with what Hayden is doing... mainly because she is always with Liam."

"Dad..."

"Scott is...." Noah sighed. "Working for Deaton, and still bitter. I don't know what happened between you two, but it doesn't appear that he is over it."

"Didn't think so." 

Assuming that was it, Stiles resigned to the fact that he wasn't ever going to be part of the pack again, and he wasn't going to have his best friend back. If he was honest he didn't know if Scott would ever look at him again. When they pulled up to the house, Noah looked at Stiles with a sincerity. It was almost too much for Stiles to handle. He tried his best to keep his emotions in check while deployed, but when he was around his dad he couldn't help it. 

"Go up and get some rest. I'll be home later."

"Thanks dad."

Without having to be told twice, Stiles was getting out of the cruiser and walking toward the house. Subconsciously he reached out, and trailed his hand along the powder blue jeep. He had missed Roscoe. Some of the humvees he had ridden in were less reliable than Roscoe on a bad day. 

Once inside the house Stiles leaned against the door. He wasn't prepared for the weight he would feel of being home. Out of all the times Stiles had wished he was home instead of the desert, he never really thought about how he would feel when he came home. His best friend abandoned him taking his pack with him. He swallowed hard and headed to his bedroom, finding it just how he had left it. 

Stiles dropped his duffle bag on the floor of his room and dug through his drawers to find something he could wear. His jeans fit still, and his t-shirts were no longer saggy, they fit him like they should have. The sleeves tight around his tanned biceps, resting on his fit waist. While his stitches were sore, he hadn't pulled one in his jolt of waking up, so he could be thankful for that. He was also thankful that his father wouldn't hear his screams from his nightmares. The army taught him out to sleep without screaming.

As he lay on his bed, Stiles thought about the one thing he wanted most. Derek to climb through his window and yell at him for falling off the face of the planet for 4 years. He knew it would never happen, but he could dream. All that time in the desert, Stiles thought about Derek. He hadn't realized it until one of his missions, but the reason why he and Lydia didn't work out was because Stiles had moved on from her. Instead he felt connected to a broody werewolf. 

The connection was more than attraction and sexual. Yeah Derek was a walking adonis, but in times where Stiles was panicky, or quite literally thought he would die, he thought of Derek. What Derek would do, what Derek would say to make him focus. Sometimes he felt like Derek was there, in his head. He was certainly there in the few dreams Stiles could manage to have. He thought about trying to call Derek's old number, he still had it in his phone, but what good would come of it? The wolf left, leaving the pack behind in Mexico. And even if he _did_ pick up, Derek would probably feel the same way about Stiles as Scott did. Hating him for hunting down the supernatural, hating him for killing Donovan, hating him for everything. 

Stiles tried to sleep but woke up on the edge of a panic attack. Without hesitation, Stiles grabbed his pistol and got in the Jeep. Target practice was always something that calmed him down. It was getting late, so the chances of anyone being in the preserve were slim. He trekked out far enough that there wouldn't be any stray people that could be injured or come running, and then he found a tree trunk large enough to hold the bullets. Taking a deep breathe, Stiles started shooting.

He was about halfway through his clip when he heard a crack behind him. Someone heard him, someone came to investigate. On reflex, Stiles turned gun drawn at the noise. He wasn't going to shoot. Not here. Not until he knew that he would die unless he pulled the trigger. 

"Put the gun down." The voice was different, but he knew it. 

"Liam?"

"How do you know my name?" 

"Ha!" Stiles lowered the gun, clicking the safety on. "I helped tie you up in Lydia's cabin basement." 

"Stiles?" 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" 

Stiles didn't even have to turn his head to know that it was Scott and he could feel the anger rolling off of the wolf. There was someone else with him. He could hear the footsteps. 

"Don't forget this was my home too." He sounded defeated. He wasn't ready for this yet.

"Are you here on a mission? Which one of us are you after?" The venom in his voice hurt.

"Scott. That's enough." 

Now that... that voice wasn't supposed to be here. Shouldn't be here. Stiles whipped around to see Derek, standing there staring straight at Stiles with this look of relief. Like it was the first time he was taking a breath. That was weird and Stiles would have to investigate that later, but literally what the hell.

"I told you once it wasn't like that... I didn't come here to kill anyone. I'm never going on a mission again."

"Right. I guess you want back in the pack. How many people have you murdered Stiles?"

"It wasn't murder Scott!" 

"That is what they tell you to think." 

That was it. Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He turned, facing Scott head on. He had done this before facing a supernatural, better yet, facing Scott. Before it was a mission, now it was bitterness and hurt. Stiles took a step forward.

"No Scott, it is what I know. You want proof?" He pulled his shirt from his body. Pointing to random marks on his arms and torso. "This one right here..." pointing to his arm. "Feral werewolf, used by terrorists to torture and traffic children." 

He pointed to the mark on his shoulder. "Windingo, high school. Trying to save myself. But you know that story." Pointing to a circular mark on his chest above his heart. "This one... Kanima. I was saving a little girl who had been kidnapped. The venom almost got to my heart. It could have been lethal. And this..." he pointed to the bandage that was slightly bloody covering from his ribs to his belly button. "Chimera. Three days ago. They didn't expect me to come back from that mission."

Everyone stood in silence. Derek was staring at Stiles as if someone had punched him, and Scott looked like he had seen a ghost. 

"So, call it what you want. Murdering, killing... either way I wasn't hunting people. I was taking down monsters some of which almost killed me. The nightmares I have now make the Nogitsune childsplay. I told you it wasn't the same. I'm not here for a mission. I'm out. I'm done. So I am going to go home and try to make my dad eat a salad because I saw the fucking burger wrapper in his office. If you have something to say to me... you know where to find me."

As Stiles walked away he realized that when he was in High School he would have done anything to make them accept him again, but now he knows he is strong. He knows he won't wither away without them, but he still wants them. No one tried to stop him, but he could feel all of them stare as he walked toward where he parked the Jeep.

+++

Two days into Stiles's return, he had tried to get the Sheriff back on his diet but was somewhat failing. He hadn't heard anything from the pack, but based off of Scott's face he was probably licking his wounds on being wrong and trying to find out how to fix what he had done. 

The Sheriff was working a double tonight, and Stiles was sitting on the couch watching TV. Trying to think of anything to keep his mind off of the subtle pain throbbing into his side when there was a knock on the door. When Stiles opened the door his heart went into over drive. Before him stood a very nervous looking Derek Hale. 

"Hi."

"Hey." Stiles thought he was going to swallow his tongue.

"I uh... I came to talk to you."

"Sure... yeah... uhm. Come in." 

Stiles stepped out of the way and let Derek in. He almost stood as tall as the wolf, and almost as muscular but never the less, Derek was still a sight for sore eyes, even if he didn't know it. 

"I was just uh... watching TV."

Derek nodded. He looked different, not as broody, but there was something about him that Stiles just couldn't put his finger on. 

"Scott told me what happened. That you joined the Army, and about Donovan."

Stiles scoffed. "Of course he told you about Donovan. I'm sure he didn't tell you the whole story either."

"That it was an accident. That Theo put Donovan up to it, framed you in the eyes of Scott. That you did what you had to in order to stay alive." 

"Wow. That's uh... surprisingly accurate." Stiles sat down on the couch, and gestured to Derek that he should sit next to him. Which the wolf complied. 

"Stiles... you said that the last mission... you weren't supposed to come back, what did you mean?"

"It was a suicide mission. They didn't tell us of course. They didn't tell us a lot of things. What they did tell us was wrong. One Chimera. Kevlar couldn't be pierced by sharp objects." Stiles swallowed. Remembering ever detail. "We went into a city, desiccated by bombs. A Chimera had taken up residency and was feeding on kids that remained in town. It had to be stopped. We went in with a team of 5. By the time we hit the town square we were surrounded. I was the only one who made it. Some wolfy Chimera thought they could take me out. Slashed right through the kevlar vest and into me. Missed the important stuff though. I unloaded half a clip of wolfsbane laced silver bullets. Yeah I know... silver for the Chimera. Dropped the wolf and found cover. It took 4 hours for an extraction. I lost a good amount of blood."

Stiles never looked at Derek, but he could feel Derek looking at him. He took a breath, then continued. 

"I had been promoted to a Strategic Weapons Specialist. Second in command really. After I pulled the team out of a few narrow escapes they realized I wasn't just some scatterbrained hyperactive solider, I was experienced in this kind of thing. Never once did I pull the trigger on someone who didn't deserve it Derek."

"I believe you. You don't have to convince me. I probably know more than you want me to."

Stiles stilled for a moment. Thinking over what Derek had just said. How would he know more? Stiles never even told Noah about these things. Stiles never told anyone. He was never allowed to tell anyone. 

"What does that mean?" 

He turned to Derek, taking in how Derek looked a little worn, and tired. He looked how Stiles seemed to feel. 

"There is a connection... you... do you remember when I was kidnapped and Kate took me to Mexico?"

"Duh... how could I forget the fiasco of 17 year old Derek?"

"Well, when I was hallucinating... I saw you. You were helping me figure out what was real and what wasn't. I mean it wasn't really you... but... You're my anchor. Every time you had a dream about me, or used the thought of me for something I felt a tug."

"You must have felt that a lot then..."

"Yeah... even when you thought you were going to die. I felt like you where dying. I hated it. I came back to Beacon Hills to look for you. Your dad said you were in the Army. I didn't pry much from there but I stayed. Hoping you would come home. Sometimes... sometimes I was even in your dreams. Or had your nightmares."

Stiles knew something like that would happen, but he didn't know that Derek would feel it or that he would be forced into his nightmares. That made him feel worse. Just knowing that Derek, the one person who didn't deserve to suffer anymore had to suffer because of him. Stiles sat there, gently bouncing his knee. He had to apologize, but the problem was he knew Derek would just forgive him. Back when they first met he knew Derek would never accept an apology from him, and now he can tell how different Derek is. 

"Are you.. are you okay?"

That was a loaded question, and it could be referring to anything. 

"I haven't torn any stitches. If that is what you mean."

"You know it isn't. Can I... can I see?"

Stiles felt his old nervous ticks coming back full force. Maybe it was just being in the presence of Derek, but he didn't seem to be able to stop them. He nodded. Gently, Stiles removed his shirt, and started to pull away the tape holding the gauze to his side. He couldn't stop looking at Derek, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Trying to predict if he was going to get up and run. 

Instead the wolf reached out and gently placed his fingers on the flesh near the stitches. They would be good to come out in a few days or so, and Stiles would have to make an appointment with Melissa. Shit he would have to see Melissa. His muscles moved under Derek's fingertips. He traced the length of the wounds just staring at them. Then looking at the other marks that riddled Stiles's arms and torso.

"I'm not skinny defenseless Stiles anymore huh?"

Derek looked away from the wounds, meeting Stiles's eyes. His infamous brows furrowed together then straightened as if he was wondering who told Stiles that he had said that to the twins. Stiles never told anyone that the Nogitsune seemed to be able to hear everything. He knew everything. Still, it wasn't what kept him awake. 

"When you said that what the Nogitsune did was child's play..."

"I killed people I was friends with. Well _he_ did. I came to terms with that. I was trapped in my body. If I would have died here, it would have been different. Dying in a place that no one knew about, by something I couldn't tell my frie... family about. The thought of my dad getting notified of my death and no one being able to tell him that I died out in the desert somewhere fighting something I really didn't have a chance with. The thought of you hating me for something I wouldn't get to chance to explain."

The last part was a whisper, it wasn't like Derek couldn't hear him. Stiles replaced his bandage and shirt wondering what is going to happen next. When Stiles looked at Derek again, the wolf had a skeptical look on his face. 

"What?"

"You said you were watching TV. Stiles the TV isn't on. I didn't hear your heart change at the lie."

"Special training."

"I still knew you were lying."

A snort left Stiles. "How?"

"You have a tell. At least I seem to be the only one who knows your tell."

"What's my tell?"

"You grip your thumb."

Another snort left Stiles. It was something so simple, something that his previously spastic behavior would disprove, yet here Derek was, noticing every small move that Stiles made. Soon Stiles caught the sounds of Derek's soft chuckle, his eyes picking up on the small smile Derek was sporting. 

"Do uh... do you wanna see them? My team?"

"Sure."

Stiles stood, leading Derek to his room. Not like the wolf would need directions considering how many times he had broken in or been invited in. Derek stood by the table while Stiles dug through his duffle bag, which Stiles was starting to feel guilty about unpacking. Everything felt so temporary that he was worried that the moment he unpacked he would be packing again.

"Here we are." 

The pair sat down on Stiles's bed, while Stiles held an envelope of photos. There were only a few, but Stiles managed to keep them in good condition considering. The first photo he handed Derek was a group shot. He named off each soldier, telling Derek about their little characteristics. Speaking of them like pack. They were for a time, his pack. The next picture was of Tony and Ally with Stiles. All three of the dicking off. It made Derek laugh. 

Most of the photos were of Ally and Tony, occasionally Stiles messing around with something. Until Stiles came to one specific photo of just him. It was the day he got promoted to SWS. Standing at attention, uniform perfect, and a smirk that Ally couldn't seem to shut up about. When Stiles handed it to Derek, he caught the way Derek's breathing changed. 

"That uh... that was the day I got promoted. Tony told me to think about someone I wanted to see when I got home. Immediately I thought of you."

Stiles watched as Derek's thumb traced over the photo.

"I planned on giving that to you. Sending it to the loft hoping you would get it. It's uh.. it's yours."

"Thank you."

The last photo in Stiles's hand was the photo from his hospital stay after the Kanima. He looked worn down, and just tired. 

"You don't uh... you don't need to see that. You've seen me beaten up many times."

Stiles knew that Derek caught a glimpse of it anyway. So it really didn't matter. After Stiles put the photos in his nightstand he turned to look at Derek. The wolf wasn't a man of many words usually, so Stiles knew that he would probably have to fill the silence unless Derek actually had something to day. Questions were starting to burn in his throat, things he wanted to ask Derek before he left, before he enlisted.

"Where did you go?"

"I stayed in South America for a while. I kind of did a tourist thing... if you could believe it. I have pictures somewhere. Things that I thought I could show you one day. Then I went to Canada, back to New York for a while. Visited Isaac in France. Actually ran into Jackson."

"Are you kidding me?! I had assumed he got his lizardy wolf ass killed along the line somewhere."

"No." Derek laughed. "He is doing well in London. Actually visits Isaac frequently. He is still very much and asshole."

"Glad to see that didn't change. Why didn't you ever call, or text?"

"I didn't know if you wanted me to. It was easy to keep telling myself that I will see you and share everything with you. It was harder to think about texting you or calling and hearing disappointment."

"Well.. hindsight, you probably wouldn't have gotten ahold of me for 4 years that way."

Derek laughed, nodding his head. 

"I know you can't give me all the details, but where have you been? Where did they send you?"

"First it was Africa. Unbearably hot, I don't suggest it to anyone. Along with the clicking languages... it is a continent of headache. We were in Afghanistan for a while, it was short. Once again to god damned hot. Iraq, still hot. The last place was Russia. Not really a surprise when you consider a Chimera. Cold and miserable most months. Humid and annoying the rest of the time. We were there for almost a year, gathering intel. Wrong intel, but still. Not really places I would be excited to visit again." 

"Do you ever regret it?"

"About 90% of it. Tony and Ally.. I don't regret meeting them. They made it bearable. Everything else? Yeah I fucking regret it."

"I regret not telling you before I left."

"What..." Stiles swallowed hard. "What are we? What do you want us to be?"

"My right hand. An Alpha's right hand is usually taken by an emissary or someone who is very important to the Alpha. Since I have regained that status, and this is my territory, I want you to be my right hand."

"Why?"

"I can't trust anyone else to do it. I don't want anyone else to do it. You're my anchor."

"How come I get the feeling that you mean more by that."

"I do, but I wasn't going to just drop that in your lap the moment you get back."

Stiles knew it. He was screaming inside, cheering, yelling, screaming all the I told you so's that he could think of. On the outside he kept himself collected. Pushing Derek wasn't something he wanted. So Stiles left it at that. 

"I should probably go. You need to get some sleep and let those heal." 

Derek pointed to Stiles's side. The younger man wanted to protest, but he knew Derek was right. Stiles needed rest and the only way he was going to be in good health was to sleep. Maybe with Derek's revelations he would sleep a little sounder. Stiles just nodded, and stood with Derek walking him to the door. 

"Don't be a stranger. I wouldn't advise jumping through the window unannounced just yet."

"I'll keep that in mind." 

The smirk on Derek's lips was sinful and Stiles had so many thoughts running through his mind that were even more sinful. He honestly didn't know if he was going to survive this man. The smirk turned to Derek raising his eyebrows in the "seriously" look. Of course the wolf could smell it. Stiles could practically smell his own attraction for the wolf. 

"Oh shut it Sourwolf."

"Later Stiles."

Stiles won't admit to anyone that he watched Derek climb into the Camaro and drive away from the kitchen window. He also won't admit that he wanted to jump the wolf right then and there. A groan left his throat as Stiles made his way back to his room. Sleep was inevitable, and Stiles wanted to sleep in the glory of his bed.


End file.
